


take a minute take a breath

by Araine



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-09
Updated: 2016-07-09
Packaged: 2018-07-22 11:45:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7436852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Araine/pseuds/Araine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Percy misses his moment. Set during Episode 56 - Hope.</p>
            </blockquote>





	take a minute take a breath

**Author's Note:**

> I loved Keyleth's conversation with Kerrek but I was so sad that Percy got stopped before he joined Vex outside, so I wrote a fic about it. My first fic in Critical Role fandom.

There is no hint of death or fear in Westrunn tonight. 

It won’t last forever, Percival knows. Tomorrow they must deal with the continued threat of the dragons, what Umbrasyl’s defeat means for the people here, and they must come to a decision over the fate of Westrunn. His mind is already spinning out possibilities for keeping the town safe - as his mind is wont to do - but at this point in the night they are just idle flights of fancy. The lives of his friends no longer rest on the feats of his mind as they did yesterday. 

It is good to see smiles, and hear laughter, and feel joy all around him. There is still a seed of hope in Westrunn. Hopefully they will at least see it take root. 

Or perhaps he’s simply deep enough in his cups to become sentimental. He’s growing tired - creating his trap worked him to exhaustion, and his skin still stings uncomfortably over fresh acid scarring. At least they’ve passed the part of the night where every person they cross stops to thank them.

So much gratitude is a difficult burden to bear, so Percy’s eyes are straying towards the door to catch a lithe and dark haired figure slip out. Vex’ahlia, it seems, has also had enough of the celebrations. Surprising, from a woman Percy knows to drink long and celebrate loud, but perhaps she too can’t quite shake the looming threat that’s bound to return with the dawn. 

Percy sets his much neglected cup on the table, pushes his chair out, moves to join her. 

Vex’ahlia hasn’t gone far. Percy can easily see her silhouette in the doorway, limned by the torchlight spilling out of the tavern door, outlining her features against the dark night. She’s looking up - at what he does not know - and the smile on her lips is a curl of such heartbreaking joy Percy’s breath catches in his throat. 

Percy has never seen Vex’ahlia look lovelier than she does in this moment. 

He has known that she is beautiful for a long time-- longer than he likes to admit to himself-- but this is…

Vex’ahlia’s smiles are all sharp edged things. She deploys them as she does her winks, for mischief and manipulation. She grins, full of amusement, at jokes and pranks alike. Even in the air on her broom, her smile is edged with defiance against a world which would take such joy from her. 

Percy has never seen a smile quite like _this_. 

Vex’s eyes are soft and bright, staring into that far off sky, and her lips curve like an unstrung bow, as if she is not even aware that she is smiling. For all that he is awful at it, for a moment Percy understands the urge to compose poetry. 

He also wants-- very badly-- to kiss her. 

Before he can decide it is a bad idea, Percy’s legs are carrying him to the entrance of the tavern. 

A hand shoots out of the crowd, grabs him by the wrist. Percy spins, bewildered, and looks into the wide eyes of a panicking Keyleth. 

“I-- I’m--” his first instinct is to brush her off, continue outside, and he gropes for any way to forestall the conversation. His mind betrays him. 

“Percy,” Keyleth says, sounding both very drunk and very anxious. 

“What?” he asks. He cannot leave Keyleth here, alone, in this state, and call himself both a gentleman and a friend. 

“This is like, giving me a lot of anxiety. There’s a lot of people here.” She’s gripping his fingers tightly in a vice grip that Percy knows can summon forth fire at a thought. At least he knows she isn’t careless enough to do it. 

“Is this about your feelings about Vax?” he asks, guessing. The other twin has been scarce for hours, for reasons unknown, and their group’s romantic follies understandably are at the forefront of his mind. “Is that the problem right now? Cause I really don’t--” 

“No,” she says, head shaking. “There are so many people calling us heroes.” 

“Yes.” Really he doesn’t understand the problem. 

“We’re not heroes,” Keyleth says, drink lending a slurred certainty to her proclamation. 

Ah. 

“We-- pretty much are, actually, I hate to tell you this,” Percy says. He’s not altogether comfortable with adulation, but he can’t deny that it hasn’t been earned. 

“No we’re not, we’re terrible people,” Keyleth says. And, well, there are shades of nuance to that, but Percy thinks that killing an evil dragon lording over the remnants of a once-great city is one of the less terrible things he has done in his time. There’s a squeak of anxiety in Keyleth’s voice. “Why are they telling us this? Ohh, gods, if I have to shake one more townsperson’s hand--”

Percy rubs his temple. She really plans to unload this on him right now, even though he hasn’t the slightest bit of advice for her. 

“I feel like I was cursed. I was cursed,” Keyleth continues, rambling as she does after a certain amount of liquor. Normally it’s quite the amusement. Now, Percy isn’t unamused, but he can’t deny his own impatience. “I don’t want any of this! I don’t want any of this--”

He’s saved from whatever awkward attempt he might make at comforting her without the words or understanding of her problem to do so by Kerrek the blacksmith, who walks up smiling and stout and asks, “This is your first time?” 

Keyleth only hyperventilates in his direction. Percy gladly foists her off in the direction of the blacksmith. 

He’ll feel some guilt about this later, probably. For now he’s already looking to the tavern door, where Vex’ahlia is already slipping back into the party. Keyleth and Kerrek disappear out into the darkness, but Percy’s eyes don’t follow them. 

He watches Vex’ahlia for a moment. Two. Long enough to see her fill a cup, join a gaggle of townsfolk, start up a conversation. Her smiles are returned to familiar territory, but Percy thinks he catches a shadow of what he glimpsed through the doorway on her lips. 

He considers, a moment, drawing her aside. Speaking to her. Professing-- whatever desires struck him so powerfully earlier.

He discards the notion. The moment is passed, and he does not wish to interrupt Vex’ahlia’s revelry, and besides there would be nowhere to go without intruding on Keyleth and he’s not keen to involve the rest of Vox Machina in his personal affairs just yet. Especially when Vex’ahlia looks across the room and turns that smile on him.

Percy just returns the smile, takes another cup, waits for Keyleth and Kerrek to finish, and then at last steps outside to enjoy the night air.


End file.
